


Winter Wish

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Series: 1001 Wishes [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Thorin is a djinn/genie in a bottle, bagginshield, mythological/fairy tale elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 16:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17811335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: “I wanted to ask you something …” Bilbo worried his lower lip. “But please, don’t be angry with me.” He forced himself to take a deep breath.“I wanted to know when your birthday is."A tentative smile appeared on Thorin’s face. “I am afraid I do not understand how your question could make me angry.”





	Winter Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with a little story from 1001 Wishes ^^ 
> 
> The first chapter is set in the winter before Bilbo's and Thorin's journey, and the information about months in the dwarrow calendar is from Dwarrow Scholar (https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com/2012/04/27/the-dwarrow-calendar/).
> 
> There'll be two more chapters, but I hope you enjoy this one to begin with :)

 

Thorin was completely lost in his book.

The slim volume in his hands had his sole attention; the cup of tea as well as the plate with scones on the side table seemed to be forgotten. His eyes shone with fascination, and he looked so comfortable and content in his armchair that Bilbo didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

The hobbit smiled to himself. Thorin was already familiar with the book in its dark green binding – Bilbo was sure he had seen the djinn reading it before, and several times at that –, but the travel journals still fascinated him. He probably knew them by heart now. Bilbo hoped that the merchants from Ered Luin would come to the Shire again next spring, and that they would have more books on offer.

Suddenly Thorin emerged from between the pages, and Bilbo realized that he had been standing in the middle of the parlour, staring at the djinn. They still stared at each other for long moments before Thorin tilted his head and gave him a puzzled look.

“Is something wrong, Bilbo?”

The hobbit flushed. How embarrassing! He had just gathered enough courage to approach Thorin at all, and then it took nothing more than a soft smile on the djinn’s lips to make him falter again! He wouldn’t draw back now!

“I wanted to ask you something …” He worried his lower lip. “But please, don’t be angry with me.”

“Angry?” The djinn closed the book and put it on the side table without taking his eyes off him. “What is the matter? Please, tell me.” He was clearly concerned, and Bilbo could have smacked himself for having started the conversation like that. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

“I wanted to know when your birthday is”, he said calmly.

A tentative smile appeared on Thorin’s face. “I am afraid I do not understand how your question could make me angry.”

Bilbo huffed. “Because I haven’t bothered to ask you so far! We’ve known each other for several months now, and you had such a beautiful gift for me on _my_ birthday, and I feel so horrible for not having asked you earlier!” With a sigh, he let himself fall into his own armchair. “I _am_ horrible”, he muttered.

“No, you are not”, Thorin said kindly. He showed him a smile – a true one this time – and Bilbo felt better at once. His mood sank again, however, as the djinn continued: “I am not sure if I can answer your question, though.”

“Why?”

Thorin was still smiling, but now it carried a trace of sadness. “I was born on the third day of _âfnudkhazâd_.”

“ _Âfnu_ …”, Bilbo began, but stumbled immediately over the foreign sounds.

“I do not know”, Thorin continued quietly, “how your people would call this month, or if the dwarves still use the names I know from my youth. Maybe they have been forgotten long ago. I only remember that my birthday was in winter … but the winter lasts long in the mountains.”

Bilbo had to lower his gaze. The parlour seemed to have lost all warmth, and he thought to feel the snowstorm outside trying to find a way into the smial. It would be futile indeed – just how should they be able to figure out the exact day of Thorin’s birth when Three Ages had gone by? It wasn’t fair – everybody should have a birthday to celebrate. Then again, many things that weren’t fair had happened to his djinn …

He looked out of the window. Darkness had settled already, and the moon cast its pale light on the thin snow cover; the falling flakes looked like tiny stars. Winters in the Shire were never harsh, but as pleasant as the other seasons. Tomorrow the children would storm outside, wrapped up in their warmest clothes, and play in the snow …

“Did you like it?” Bilbo asked as an idea began to form in his mind. “Celebrating your birthday in winter and not, let’s say, in summer.”

“I did … very much. When I was a child, I did not have a single lesson on my birthday, but I could leave Erebor and play outside as long as I wanted.” Bilbo watched his djinn, but Thorin in turn looked out of the window, lost in memories. “My siblings always joined me. They wanted to play in the snow as well, even when they could barely walk themselves. I remember how Frerin pestered our parents until they agreed to carry him outside, and how he crawled through the snow, almost disappearing in it … and with Dís, it was just the same. What a stubborn family we were!” Eventually Thorin remembered the cup of tea on the side table. He reached for it, but didn’t drink; instead he twisted it between his hands. “And when I returned into our chambers, mother made hot chocolate for all of us, and we sat down in front of the fire and listened to her songs and stories …”

“Would you like to celebrate your birthday in winter again?”

Bilbo’s question was met with a confused gaze, so he explained his idea: “I’m afraid we won’t be able to figure out the date of your, ahem, original birthday. But we could, you know, determine … a new one.” He scratched his cheek. “So we can celebrate it nonetheless.”

Thorin looked at him as if he hadn’t understood a single word. But then the frown between his brows disappeared, and he broke into a bright smile.

“You would like that? Celebrating my birthday with me?”

“Of course! I’d love to celebrate tomorrow already, but”, Bilbo leaned forward in his armchair with a grin, “that won’t be possible, I’m afraid. I need some preparation time, after all! So tell me, what kind of birthday cake do you prefer …?”

When Bilbo finally lay in his bed that night, his head was brimming with plans for Thorin’s birthday – he would bake cake, of course, and cook his djinn’s favourite dishes, oh, and he had to look if there was enough of his special spice blend for hot chocolate left –

With his eyes closed, a grin spread on his face. They would celebrate Thorin’s birthday in four days’ time, and that also meant he would have enough time to enjoy the warm shine of anticipation in his djinn’s eyes.

 

***

 

Bilbo frowned at the front door of his smial.

He didn’t fear the cold air that would await him behind it; he was definitely prepared for it. He was wearing his red winter coat, a scarf was wrapped around his neck, and his hands were protected by woollen mittens.

He turned around to look at Thorin. The djinn had assured him that the cold didn’t affect him like it did Bilbo, but he was wearing the warm clothes the hobbit had made for him nonetheless. Bilbo’s heart had swelled with joy as he had watched Thorin putting them on; the djinn treated his clothes with endearingly great care – just like everything else the hobbit had gifted him.

“I do not mind”, Thorin repeated yet again. “Really.”

The hobbit pouted. “And what about my promise? I said I wouldn’t treat you like a djinn anymore, and that means no wishes!”

“Bilbo”, Thorin said gently, and there was nothing more needed for Bilbo to give in with a sigh. They had discussed this, after all.

“Alright”, he mumbled. “I wish you would grow tiny and hide in my pocket.”

“As you wish.” The djinn nodded, and moments later Bilbo felt his weight in his shirt pocket. He cast a glance inside.

“Are you alright in there?”

“I am”, Thorin replied, his voice still surprisingly deep for such a tiny creature.

“Well, then let’s start on our winter walk, shall we?” With a smile, Bilbo picked up the basket from next to the door – it was quite heavy, and he could smell its delicious contents despite the cloth that covered it – and stepped outside.

“What a beautiful day to celebrate your birthday”, he whispered into his pocket. It was indeed: Although the air was crisp and Bilbo’s breath formed little wisps, it was a sunny day, and only a few thin clouds covered the sky. Several hobbits – especially children – had left their smials as well; some of them had gathered at the party field to build snow figures. Their joyous laugher and squeals made Bilbo smile, but he didn’t stop to watch their play. He didn’t stop at the market place either, only greeted the few wrapped up hobbits and continued on his way. He walked until the smials lay behind him, hidden by snow-covered rolling hills, and then he stepped off the road and waded through the snow until he disappeared amidst the trees. When he turned around after a while, there were only his tracks in the snow, nothing else.

“I think it’s alright now. You can come out.” He loosened his scarf a little to peek into his pocket – only to realize that Thorin wasn’t hiding inside of it anymore. Instead, the djinn had suddenly appeared at his side.

Thorin had put his head into the neck and was looking at the snow-covered pine trees as if enchanted. A smile was on his face – a soft, still somewhat unbelieving one. He took a step forward, and his eyes twinkled at the sound of snow crunching beneath his boots. He bent down to graze his fingers over the snow, and now he was positively beaming.

Bilbo watched him with a fondness that warmed him to his very core. When Thorin had told him that he only wished for a winter walk on his birthday, he had had doubts at first. It deemed him somewhat … insufficient. After all, going on a walk wasn’t extraordinary, nothing one had to wish for specifically.

And yet Thorin was beaming as if Bilbo had gifted him the whole world.

“I feel like I was celebrating my birthday indeed”, the dwarf declared; he sounded as if he was about to burst into laughter any moment.

“You _are_ celebrating your birthday, my dear”, Bilbo reminded him softly.

“It still feels strange – to have a birthday again.” Thorin’s cheeks were red, but not only with the cold. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

Treacherous heat rose into the hobbit’s cheeks as well. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Thank me. I mean, you haven’t even tried the tartlets yet!” He laughed, trying to cover how little effort it took Thorin to make his heart race – a simple thank-you from his djinn felt as if his tomatoes had been prized above all others in the Shire. “Speaking of which … would you like some?”

Thorin grinned at him. “As if I could ever say ‘no’ to one of your tartlets!”

“How lucky that I made plenty of them, then. Let’s find a place for our picnic, shall we?” Bilbo reached for Thorin’s hand, and a tingle shot through his body as the djinn’s fingers wrapped around his.

 _I should have taken off my mittens_ , he chided himself good-humouredly as he and Thorin strolled through the wintery forest in comfortable silence. Snow crunched beneath their feet, and walking amongst the snow-capped trees felt like wandering through a fairyland. Bilbo, however, found himself staring at his djinn most of the time. Thorin’s delight in their winter walk was just too endearing to look away: his cheeks were red from the cold, but he was smiling brightly, and his eyes were positively shining with joy.

He knew that dwarves received gifts on their birthday instead of giving them, but seeing Thorin being so happy felt like a gift to him.

“Look, over there.” They had entered a small clearing, and there was a fallen log on its edge. “This looks like a nice place.” Bilbo gently nudged him towards it. He quickly brushed the snow off the log and placed the cloth from his basket on it to prevent the cold from creeping into their bones. Thorin would probably warm him if he wished for it, but he was determined not to ask for any magic.

The djinn sat down next to him and cast a curious glance into the basket. Smiling, Bilbo handed him two tin cups and poured them a drink from a leather skin.

“For now it’s just tea”, he explained. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate when we’re back at home, fresh from the stove.” He offered Thorin a tartlet; the djinn took a hearty bite immediately. “I’ve also prepared the dough for the sweet buns before we left, they won’t take long either. And then there’s the chicken for dinner, of course, and …”

“But Bilbo!” his djinn interrupted him with a laugh. “It sounds as if you were planning a feast for a whole kingdom! You make me feel as if I were a pampered little prince again!”

“Well …” Bilbo twisted the tin cup between his fingers. “This is the way of us hobbits, you know? This way … I can show that I care for you.”

“I remember.” Thorin’s voice was soft, and it had Bilbo look up from his tea. “You explained it to me on your birthday. You put thought and time into your cooking, as well as your care. And I … I appreciate how you care for me. Very much. And I am not just talking about the cooking.”

Bilbo quickly took a bit of his own tartlet to cover how deeply Thorin’s words touched him. The djinn continued to munch on his own sweet treat merrily, and for a while they sat in silence.

Then Bilbo asked: “Have you been one?”

“Been what?”

The hobbit grinned at him. “A pampered little prince.”

A smiled appeared on Thorin’s face. “My siblings often complained that I was far too serious and grown-up for my age, always brooding. Frerin even dared to call me ‘gramps’ once. I was quite … baffled.”

“I can imagine that”, Bilbo chuckled.

“But he was right. As heir to the throne, it was expected from me to be … well, grown-up and serious. I had lessons to attend, learn everything about Erebor and our neighbours, about running a kingdom, diplomacy … I even remember some infamous dance lessons.” He rolled his eyes. “Thinking back now, I was brooding indeed. But I also remember sneaking away with my siblings to snatch sweets from the kitchen, or the tricks we played on our grandfather … And my mother told me more than once that I had quite a temper when I was a child, so maybe I was not always that hopeless.” He cast a glance at Bilbo. “What about you? I do not think that you have ever been called brooding.”

“Definitely not. Instead I was called reckless and adventurous, always with my head up in the sky and twigs in my hair. It’s not unusual; many hobbit children are like that. But when we come of age, we are expected to become … respectable, you know. Getting married, settling down … not dreaming of adventures and far-away countries anymore.” He showed Thorin a crooked smile, but couldn’t answer his gaze anymore; instead he lowered his eyes. “As you can guess, I’m not meeting such expectations.” His heart clenched with a sudden ache. _I’m always the odd one_.

“Thank goodness. I prefer you like you are, not like other people think you should be.”

“You … you do? Really?” Surprised at the turn their conversation had taken, Bilbo couldn’t help sounding a little incredulous. The way Thorin looked at him – open, sincere, and fond – brought a flush to his cheeks.

“I do. I cannot compare you to any other person I have ever met.” Thorin spoke in a quiet voice, but with emphasis. “I know this sounds like an awful comparison, given the sorts of people I had to deal with so far. But you are kind-hearted and generous, and I am very grateful that it was you who opened my phial.”

“Oh. I … I’m …” Bilbo was baffled and didn’t know what to say or where to look; his cheeks had to have the colour of tomatoes right now. The crumbs of pastry on his palms suddenly deemed him quite interesting.

He had promised himself to be patient. Both of them – Bilbo just as much as Thorin – needed time to get adjusted to the feeling that there was somebody there who cared for them, who wished for the other to be happy. It was difficult to exercise patience when Thorin said such things while looking at him like that, though.

Finally Bilbo managed to cast a glance up at Thorin again.

Then again …

“I … I’m very grateful to have met you too.” Leaning closer, he wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s neck; soft strands of hair tickled his cheek as he rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, Thorin”, he whispered and smiled as strong arms encircled him, drawing him gently into their warmth.

Both of them had to get used to receiving gestures of affection, but today was a good day to begin with.


End file.
